


Is this worth it? (Let him live)

by Bumble_Bean_365



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Enjolras Being An Asshole, Enjolras Lives, F/M, Kinda, Let him live, M/M, On The Barricade, Pining Grantaire, Sad Grantaire, Song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:29:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23335402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bumble_Bean_365/pseuds/Bumble_Bean_365
Summary: After the first attack Grantaire has lost all hope for anybody's survival and for the first time in many years, he prays.
Relationships: (mentioned) - Relationship, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Marius Pontmercy/Éponine Thénardier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Is this worth it? (Let him live)

**Author's Note:**

> It's two am, this is a brain dump, a weird AU that I felt the urge to write instead of sleeping- I'm sorry for this mess XD

Grantaire sits on a broken table away from the rest of the Amis, bottle clutched tightly in his hand. He stared at the dead bodies in the Musain through the window. He'd known those men. He'd drank with them, sung with them, laughed with them.

Now they were dead. As would the rest of them come morning. 

His eyes filled with tears at the thought of the rest of his friends dying. He doesn't want to see Courfeyrac laying dead, see him without the mischievous glint in his eyes. He doesn't want to see Joly with a bullet between his eyes, his cane thrown haphazardly on the ground. He'd already lost Éponine. She'd died in the arms of the man she loved. The man that had never given her the time of day. 

He doesn't want to lose anyone else.

He takes a long sip from his bottle as images of Enjolras dying flit through his head. Blond curls that usually frame his beautiful face, streaked with blood. A bullet hole in his stomach, chest or even his head. His clothing ripped and stained red. Grantaire, choked out a sob at the idea of his Apollo dying. 

Grantaire knew how all of this would end. He'd known it from the beginning. He'd tried to tell them. This was fruitless, people are cowards, they never would've helped them. It was all too late now. Everybody Grantaire had ever known, ever cared about would die tomorrow and Grantaire could do nothing to stop it. 

"If there is a God above, please listen to my prayer." Grantaire whispered, he took another swig of his drink. "I never believed in you, I did not want to because that meant you were as cruel as the rest of us. But- but if you are listening-  _ please _ , let him live."

Grantaire looks over at where Enjolras is talking to Combeferre, his face serious. He looked tired, exhausted even. But beautiful nonetheless.

"I have never asked you for much but please, I beg of you. Let him live. He is so good, he is inherently good. He deserves to live." He's fully sobbing at this point. He moved away from the barricade, walking into an alcove where he was sure no one could hear him. He threw his bottle at the wall in anger.

"You have never done  _ anything _ for me, but I prayed to you, I prayed every night as a child! You never helped me! But just this once, help me.  _ Please. _ " The 'please' was so soft it was almost a whisper.

"If I die, so be it! Let me die! Dear God above I will die, but let him continue on. He is young, he is scared, as are the rest of us. But he- he can make a change, he has not been tainted with hatred and pessimism. He is all that I am not… so please…" he falls to his knees and looks up at the sky, his tears in his eyes shining with the brightness of the moon. "Let him live…" 

  
  
  
  
"Grantaire, you are incapable of believing of thinking of willing of living and of dying!" Enjolras shouted at him. Every word feeling like a shot in the stomach. He had simply wanted to spend his last hours with his friends, his family. But apparently not. There's complete silence in The Musain.

"You will see." He stands up to leave the Musain.  "You will see."

He tried to ignore Joly's concerned glances as the doctor sees him wipe the tears from his eyes on the way out of the café. But he didn't dare stand up to follow the artist.

Grantaire sat back down outside where he'd sat after the first battle, he held out the bottle in front of him, staring at it. He shook his head dismissively and took a sip. 

All he could hear was Enjolras' voice as it told him how incapable he was. And he was right. He was simply a drunkard who's thrown everything away because of a man who resents him. 

Enjolras says he's incapable of believing; if he only knew. He believed in nothing that is true, but if he would have to choose one thing to believe in it would be his Apollo. He didn't want him to fail. He never has. He might jest about it during the meetings (that will never be held again) but he wanted Enjolras to prove him wrong, he wanted Enjolras to succeed. 

Grantaire relished the burn of the vodka- he’d already finished the wine. He desperately tried to ignore the feeling of the tears streaming down his face. Desperately tried to ignore the voices in his head. He drank until he couldn't hear the insults Enjolras had thrown at him anymore. 

  
  
  
  


Grantaire shot up from where he sat and looked around. Daylight had broken and the sun shone through the broken windows of the Musain. Slowly everything back to him as he took in the Café, empty of everything but broken glass and-

Bodies. So many dead bodies.

He felt himself flinch back at the look of Gavroche’s body laying on the floor next to his sister. Grantaire felt tears sting his eyes as he hunched over and emptied his stomach onto the floor at the smell of his best friends’ bodies. He could barely breathe when the vomiting had stopped. Everyone was dead. Everyone he cared about was gone, killed in a failing revolution. 

He looked up as he heard footsteps above him. Someone was still alive. He stood up, trying to hold down his bile. Running up the creaking stairs and clumsily pulling himself up the ones that had been chopped down he made his way upstairs only to be met with the backs of a group of French soldiers. They were pointing their guns at someone. His heart stopped when he saw who it was. 

By the window his Apollo stood defiantly looking down the barrel of the soldiers’ bayonet. They were about to shoot him. Grantaire panicked. No. Enjolras couldn’t die, not after all of this-

“Wait!” Grantaire shouted across the room, catching the soldiers' attention, “I am one of them,  _ Vive la France _ !” He strode through the group of soldiers, pushing through the red and blue to get to his Apollo. Once he could see him he tried to convey all of his love and appreciation for the man with just his eyes. He hopes that Enjolras was able to understand why he did what he did next. 

Grantaire turned from Enjolras to face the other men in the room. “Are you really willing to kill the son of one of the wealthiest lawyers in Paris? What do you think you’ll get- because it won’t be a medal." 

One of the men growled, "What are you talking about, whore." He aimed his gun straight at Grantaire. Grantaire held back a small smile. Perfect. The artist hoped Enjolras didn't catch the slur, he knows Enjolras doesn't think very highly of him but he doesn't need Enjolras to know how Grantaire's given up on reacting to insults. He held his head high as he continued to speak.

"You are standing in front of one Antonie Enjolras, son of the wealthy Raphael Enjolras, one of Paris's most known lawyers." He watched as the soldiers became more and more unsure of themselves with great satisfaction. But ignored Enjolras' small 'What are you doing.' 

"You wouldn't dare hurt him, let alone kill him, would you? How do you think monsieur Enjolras would feel about that?" Grantaire made sure to stand in front of Enjolras, if they were to shoot they would most definitely hit him. The lead soldier lowered his gun, narrowing his eyes. 

“This does not mean we won't kill you.” He growled. Grantaire shook his head.

“I didn’t expect you not to, good monsieur. I expect for you to shoot me instead of him.” Grantaire cherished Enjolras’ small gasp behind him. It wasn’t very often when he could get that noise from the revolutionary. Grantaire took a few steps back until he could grab Enjolras’ hands behind himself. He never took his eyes off the soldiers, not until he pulled Enjolras closer against his back and looked up at his love’s face. He knew that the guards were far enough away that the bullets wouldn’t go all the way through his torso, so they couldn’t hurt his Apollo. 

“Do you permit it?” Grantaire asked as he placed Enjolras’ hands on his sides. He knew he was going to die, there was no point in keeping it a secret any longer. Enjolras looked at him in shock but there was a hint of sadness on his face as he slowly pieced everything together. The revolutionary nodded slowly and squeezed Grantaire’s sides, not knowing what to say.

He understood why Grantaire never said anything, how they were currently standing  _ alone  _ could get them killed, not to mention if anything more were to ever happen. Enjolras felt a pang in his chest as he realised that nothing ever  _ could _ happen. Grantaire was about to die after saving his life. Enjolras had been willing to die for his cause, but Grantaire had never believed in any of this. He’d known that it would end up like this from the very start. Yet here he was about to die for it. No. Not for the cause, but for Enjolras. 

Enjolras couldn’t do anything but nod before he heard the shots ring through the air. He could feel it as they pierced Grantaire’s body. He could see Grantaire’s smiling face freeze as the life drained from his eyes. 

Grantaire was happy to go like that, finally he knew what it was like to be in Enjolras' arms, even if he was dying in them. Is this how Éponine had felt? Dying in the arms of the man you love, knowing that he could never love you back. Time moved slowly, the pain from the shots muting as his vision began to fade. He knew in that moment that God had listened. God had heard his desperate prayer for Enjolras’ survival. He took one last look into his Apollo’s eyes with a smile before closing his own. Life leaving his body forever. 

“Monsieur Enjolras, you’ll need to come with us.”

**Author's Note:**

> I had no idea how to end this. But anywhosles, thanks for reading. I'm going to go to bed now.


End file.
